


A word of praise

by Lacertae



Series: Kinktoberfest 2018 [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Frottage, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Pre-Canon, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 13:02:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16285076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacertae/pseuds/Lacertae
Summary: Kinktober 2018 Day 07 - Mondatta/Zenyatta





	A word of praise

**Author's Note:**

> jumped a few days since i didnt feel inspiration for those, though I might come back to them at a later time :)

**Day 07 – Praise-kink** | ~~Body Swap~~ | ~~Aphrodisiacs~~ | ~~Incest~~

“You are doing well,” Mondatta offers, casually.

Zenyatta stutters, fumbles with himself, and loses three inches as his concentration splits and he falls on the carpet beneath him, forehead array blinking unsteadily. “I, uh– thank you, master!”

The warmth that blossoms inside him is like liquid fire, burns with enough contentment that Zenyatta turns almost giddy, even if it means he cannot continue to meditate because his focus is gone. He continues to repeat the words in his mind, Mondatta’s tone authentic and satisfied, and he feels them settle, heavy and pleasant within his core.

He thinks himself unworthy of such praise, yet unable to refuse it, the words wrapping around him like a blanket.

He has been at the monastery for months now, with a new name and a new purpose, but the fact that Mondatta’s attention returns to him, that he’s given praise, that Mondatta sees him, even when Zenyatta feels at loss with himself, and his own direction in life, gives him the strength he needs to keep going.

***

“You seem to be in your element, my dear,” Mondatta’s voice does not startle him, as Zenyatta’s awareness has grown greatly over the course of the past year, but the warmth in his master’s tone still has the same effect on him. “You offer quite the beautiful sight.”

Zenyatta keeps his control steady, refuses to let Mondatta see how his praise affects him, and guides his orbs back around his neck in a beautiful, golden arch before lowering himself to the ground. His fans whirr loudly, and his circuits feel full of static, but hopefully Mondatta will attribute this to the strain of his exercise, and not to the way his own words have affected him.

“Thank you, master,” he replies, and he cannot fully hide the gratitude from his tone.

So long, and Mondatta still seeks him out, to talk, to spend time with, to guide him on the path Zenyatta chose. It should not embolden him so –he knows Mondatta praises other students, other monks, and yet he can’t stop the warmth flooding his chest every time he’s on the receiving end of such praise, he can’t stop himself from feeling heady on it.

“Is it any easier now than it was when you started? It looks like your control on your orbs has gotten better, if you can levitate while directing them.”

“A bit, yes. The omnic energy I share with my mala has settled and is in tune now, which allows me to be more lenient with the amount of focus I need to keep on them.”

“Well done, my light. You have advanced so much I truly feel you are on your way to become a master, yourself.” Zenyatta’s synth crackles in surprise, his forehead array burning bright in shock, and then Mondatta’s hand brushes against his faceplate, the kind of gesture he’s grown familiar with. “I am so proud of you, Zenyatta.”

Someone calls for Mondatta from inside the monastery and he turns, diverting his attention away from the way Zenyatta has stilled. There is something burning inside him, his chest heavy and swollen from the inside, and the heat consumes him until it turns into a throbbing sensation that spreads from his chest, setting him on fire.

Mondatta is _proud_ of him.

He stutters and takes a tiny, hesitant step back, as the throbbing ache sets lower and lower, mortifying him in its presence, yet he is unable to hide its existence to himself, and the truth that it brings.

***

“You are beautiful,” Mondatta murmurs.

Zenyatta jolts a little, his head snapping back as Mondatta leans forwards to press their foreheads together, and Zenyatta feels  the cold of the stones behind him clash with the heat from Mondatta’s frame, flush against him.

He tried to keep quiet about how much Mondatta’s praise affects him but of course –of course Mondatta would find out, but that he could decide to praise him like this, when–

“Mondatta…” it comes out as a whine from his synth.

“Your soul is the brightest I’ve ever seen, my dear –my light,” Mondatta rubs his faceplate against his own, one hand coming to rest on his chin, and then he pushes against him. “It delights me so much to see you, and even more when I can have you closer, where I can touch you as I please, and make you _burn_.”

Zenyatta’s synth gives out a tiny, pathetic moan. “Mondatta, you don’t– understand…”

“Do you think I do not like this?” Mondatta’s voice softens, turns into a low whisper. “I see the effect it has on you, and that in turn has an effect on me as well. To watch you flustered, shaking with need from my mere words… is as rewarding as your presence here, in my arms.”

Zenyatta shakes, anticipation like static inside him, and he does not know what to do with himself, with the fire that spreads through his chassis, but is emboldened enough that he sneaks one hand between them, and presses it against the bulge of Mondatta’s cock, already free from its modesty panel plating. He feels its outline through layers of clothes, caresses it, palms it with his hand and rubs against it and Mondatta thrusts into his hand, vents hissing steam out of his shoulders.

“You do not know what you do to me, my dear.” His hand travels to the nape of Zenyatta’s neck, fingers caressing his wires.

Zenyatta moans again, shivers, his own prosthetic cock sliding out of its sheathe and into Mondatta’s thigh; Mondatta gently leads his hand away from between them, links their fingers together and presses them against the wall by Zenyatta’s head.

Then, he grinds into him, slotting their cocks together so they rub against one another.

“Mondatta… _ah_ –”

Pleasure makes him stutter, and he arches into Mondatta, the friction delicious against his aching cock.

Mondatta hums, deep in his synth. “Use my name again, my light. I want you to shout it for whoever will care to listen.” Zenyatta’s fingers dig into Mondatta’s front, tugging on his robes to get him _closer_. “Your voice, your laughter, all of you… is so beautiful that I wish I could share, even when I truly do _not_ want to.”

Zenyatta shudders again, legs weak, and he parts his thighs when Mondatta thrusts against him again, the friction good enough that it makes him want to curl and open up further. The clothes are too much, he wants Mondatta’s body naked against his own, so he can feel the curves and dents on Mondatta’s chassis with his own sensors, but he can’t stop, he _doesn’t want_ to stop, and the way Mondatta grinds harder against him, pushing their prosthetic cocks together makes him loud, and then even louder.

“You look even more radiant now,” Mondatta pushes him harder into the wall, insistent yet frantic himself, wanting them closer, and closer still. “So close to overloading… Zenyatta… will you come for me?”

“Mondatta… please… I need…” Zenyatta writhes against the wall, pushes at their joined hands, synth crackling with energy, and then Mondatta acquiesces, one of his hands slipping easily past layers of clothes to push them out of the way, and Zenyatta seizes up when he feels Mondatta’s cock press against his own. “Yes, I need… _please_ –”

Mondatta moans, his hand wrapping around both of their cocks, tight and unforgiving, and he thrusts into him and Zenyatta’s optical array falters. He’s _so_ close, and the pleasure swells like a tide, he needs–

“So beautiful, my Zenyatta,” Mondatta murmurs, and Zenyatta spills into his hand, shaking as he comes, clutching Mondatta close to him, and feels, through his haze, Mondatta stiffen and come as well, slumping against him.


End file.
